The Cloak of Identity
by bessorla
Summary: Draco is forced to enter Hogwarts in his fifth year under a new identity. He begins to see many people (including our favorite trio) in a new light... ***Finally Updated!***
1. The Accused

Chapter 1

The Accused

            Draco Malfoy lazily strolled down Knockturn Alley, pleased by the fact he was completely unsupervised. His father didn't even know he was here. Casting a carefully practiced bored look over what he saw as he entered Borgin and Burkes, he smirked in spite of himself. Just knowing he had a free reign to do as he pleased in the shop (not that his father was very restricting), gave him a sense of superiority as he examined the various items on display.

            Dangerous magical objects littered the shelves of the shop. Draco looked over them, taking his time with the more hazardous things. He stopped at a very ordinary-looking bronze jug, smirking as he read the label: _The Drowning Jug- Very dangerous. Drowned over 100 muggles in the Middle Ages, who thought it was free water for the poor. The muggle corpses were unrecognizable, as their faces had been sucked off._

            He passed by a pair of gorgeous gold earrings covered with dried blood encased in glass, and he cast a lazy eye upon the rusty spiked instruments he had seen many times before. After he examined the shelf filled with skulls, he came upon an item he had never seen before. A dark blue cloak was on display behind glass. The label read: _Ask front desk for information_. Intrigued, Draco rang the bell on the dusty counter, examining the evil-looking masks on the wall behind the desk. Shortly, a stooping, greasy-haired man appeared.

            "Master Malfoy! How wonderful to see you." He said in an oily voice that was as phony as his smile. "Is your father here as well?"

            "No. It's just me." He said, sneering. 

            "Heading back to Hogwarts soon? Looking for something that might be… of _use_ for the new school year?" Borgin said, slowly making his way to a display of colorful quills, "These are quite interesting. Poisoned quills. Not fatal enough to kill anyone, of course, when used properly." He said the last word sarcastically, as if he were making sure to get the point across that they _were_ fatal. "Just a little prick in an extending hand, and—"

            "I'm not interested," Draco said abruptly, interrupting the elder man. "I would, however, like you to tell me about this cloak," he said icily, gesticulating towards the dark blue cloak.

            "Ah, the Zoyan cloak of Identity!" Borgin said, clearly glad in being able to make a sales pitch, "This cloak is from a tragic story and history. It's believed to be linked with many suicides…" Borgin paused for dramatic effect before continuing. "The cloak was created by Countess Zoya Olenko during Medieval times. She was the daughter of a very rich and powerful Count, who, like anyone of nobility, wanted to secure a predecessor with his bloodline. Zoya was his only daughter, as his wife died soon after giving birth to her. He never took a second, being one of the few men who would only love one woman as his wife. Apparently he had many mistresses, but he refused to have a bastard child as his successor."

            "So he arranged for Zoya to marry another nobleman's son. She had never met the man, but she was very upset that she was being forced to marry someone just so her father would have a successor. Being disgruntled at her father and her position, and the male-dominant world in general, she decided to run away from her family and her title."

            "She knew that if anyone saw her, they would immediately return her to her father, because he would offer a reward. Which he did."

            "Driven by her contempt for the men around her, she created the cloak to avoid this problem. It creates a new outward appearance for its wearer, though inwardly, the person is the same. They can create a new identity, similar to Polyjuice Potion, but with a great advantage. They do not need a part of someone else to take on a different appearance, and it does not wear off after an hour. This is also the problem with the cloak. The Countess cursed the cloak to never be able to be taken off until the wearer finds his or her true love and connects with them. No one knows exactly what the connection must be…" Borgin trailed off, completely immersed in his storytelling. Draco rolled his eyes.

            "True love? I thought she didn't want to be with anyone, or maybe she just didn't want a man." He sneered.

            "No, no," Borgin said, missing or ignoring the insinuation, "She didn't want to be set up. So she made the cloak so that it could _not_ be removed until she found her true love."

            "How sentimental."

            "Ah, but she didn't have a sentimental ending. She never found her true love. She spent the rest of her short life destitute, as she didn't have any money or skill in anything except proper etiquette for a feast. That didn't help her at all, of course. After a long, futile search for her soul mate, she tried to return to her father, but no one believed she was his long lost daughter. Eventually she killed herself using poison. Ironic really. She probably would have been happier if she had just followed her father's wishes."

            "So then, how did the cloak survive? Shouldn't it have gone with her when she killed herself under her fake identity?" 

            Borgin smirked. "No. As soon as she died, the cloak reappeared, as did her real appearance. Her body was found. The cloak was pilfered by an unsuspecting peasant, who also ended up committing suicide. The cloak has caused many people to drive themselves to death, because it eventually consumes them with a purpose. To find their soul mate. Some did find their 'other half', but they never destroyed the cloak."

            Draco smirked. "It's not really that useful then, is it." he said, making it a statement rather than a question. 

            "On the contrary, it can be very useful. For example, say someone did something that was, oh, I don't know, against the law." He made it sound very casual, but Draco knew this must have been the real purpose behind Borgin having such an item for sale.

            "If someone wanted to avoid being caught, this could be a _very_ useful object, as it changes your identity. If someone were to have some method for finding people by looking beyond their disguises, it wouldn't matter, if the fugitive was wearing the cloak. Once you've introduced yourself, while wearing the cloak, with a different name other than your own, you would always be seen with that name, no matter what device is used to detect you."

            "Really?" Draco asked, suddenly very interested in the "sentimental" cloak.

            "Yes. It's truly a treasured item of great worth, if someone doesn't want to be recognized. Are you interested in purchasing it?" Borgin asked evenly, but the look on his face clearly indicated he felt Draco was. After all, if Draco wasn't, then Borgin would have made one of his best sales pitches ever with a negative end result. Borgin wouldn't like going to all the trouble of explaining the cloak without making a sale. Draco kept his expression controlled.

            "Hmm…" Draco said, prolonging his decision and torturing Borgin.

            "I assure you it's very reasonable priced for such a priceless item." Borgin said, still maintaining his calm façade.

            Draco finally relented. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to have it…You know, just in case."

            Borgin was delighted. "Of course, of course. You've made a very wise choice, sir." Draco smirked at the man's spontaneous formality.

***

            Draco emerged from Borgin and Burkes ten minutes later feeling both elated and dejected. He was happy he had made the purchase, but now he didn't have much money left to spend on anything else, and he wasn't sure if he had made a very wise choice in buying the cloak. It wasn't the money spent that bothered him; he could always get more from his father later. It just seemed like he had bought a truly useless item. He wandered out of Knockturn Alley and into Diagon Alley, where he planned on spending the rest of his money on sweets and other useless things, to acquiesce with his theme of buying things he didn't need or necessarily want.

            Emerging from a sweet shop much later, Draco immediately noticed that something was amiss in Diagon Alley. The normally content, bustling feel of the alley had changed to one of tenseness and fear. There was an odd green sheen reflecting off the shops and the people screaming and hurrying by. They all seemed very afraid, and many were heading towards the exits of Diagon Alley. Many adults were Apparating out of the throughway, while families rushed towards any shops connected to the floo network, and the entrance to the Muggle world, at the Leaky Cauldron. The majority of the panicked mass was staring upwards in terror. Draco looked up and saw the reason why everything seemed to be slightly green.

            Glaring down from its high point was the Dark Mark- the skull with a snake for a tongue. The sign of Voldemort. Draco immediately whipped his head around, looking for the person responsible for sending up the Mark. Which Death Eater was foolhardy enough to send up the Mark in Diagon Alley, where there were wizards and probably Aurors everywhere? 

            "What happened?" Draco heard a witch on his right shout to her companions as she ran up to them. "I just got out here when I heard screaming-"

            "It was a Death Eater." Draco stepped closer to the group unobtrusively, wanting to find out what had happened since he had no one to ask.

            "I was out here when it happened," a wizard with graying hair and beard continued sadly, "One of You-Know-Who's followers attacked what looked like a Muggle family, probably with wizarding children, they were coming out of Fluorish and Blotts—"

            "_Attacked?_ Are they mad?" The witch demanded.

            "I don't know. Anyway, the Death Eater hit the entire family, one by one with the Cruciatus Curse—"

            "They had two little boys and a little girl with them…" another witch added quietly. The first witch gasped. Draco leaned toward the group closer.

            "Then he _took off_ his mask, like he wanted people to see him and he shouted, 'Filthy Mudbloods shouldn't be dirtying Hogwarts halls.' Then he conjured the Dark Mark and Disapparated." The wizard finished in a shaky voice.

            "Hang on, did you say he took his mask off? Did you see what he looked like?"

            "Yeah, he had really blonde hair and pale skin. But his eyes- that was the creepiest part about him. They were cold, steely gray. The odd thing was, he didn't look older than fifteen…"

            Draco was stunned. Someone had conjured the Dark Mark looking like _him_. He immediately started to turn away, but it was too late. The wizard had been gesticulating where the family had been, before Aurors and members of the Ministry of Magic took them away when he saw Draco trying to slink away unnoticed. The wizard's eyes widened and he immediately began to shout.

            "It's him! It's him! He's the one who attacked the family and conjured the Dark Mark!"

            Draco instantly started running towards Fluorish and Blotts, the closest shop to him, but Aurors were already Apparating in front of him with a _pop!_ and running towards him with their wands out. He changed direction and ran towards the throng outside of the Leaky Cauldron, but more people had spotted him and Aurors were appearing all around him. He finally managed to break away and run down a short alley between Ollivander's wand shop and the Apothecary. Unfortunately, it was a dead end. He knew the Aurors would find him any moment now. 

He jammed his hand into his robes looking for his wand, but it wasn't there. _Damn_, he thought, _I must have dropped it._

_Or someone stole it, tortured a Muggle family with wizard children and conjured the Dark Mark, _a voice said in the back of his mind.

Draco was now panicking. He looked around, wondering stupidly for a moment if he could ward off the Aurors by throwing rocks at them. Then he looked down and saw his package from Borgin and Burkes. He remembered Mr. Borgin saying, _If__ someone wanted to avoid being caught, this could be a _very_ useful object…_

Draco didn't hesitate. He took the dark blue cloak out and flung it over himself.


	2. Malfoy Manor

DISCLAIMER: Draco Malfoy and all things in the Harry Potter Universe are not mine…

A/N: Just wanted to quickly thank Winddance for doing a wonderful job as my beta-reader and muse whenever I'm stuck for ideas… Which is quite often. Check out her story "Undead" - It's a great fic featuring Harry's relationship with - _a __ghost? There's your plug, m'dear. On with the story!_

Chapter 2

**Malfoy**** Manor**

            As soon as Draco flung the Zoyan cloak over his shoulders, he regretted his rash decision. Then again, he hadn't had much choice. The Aurors would have found him quickly since he didn't know how to Disapparate _and_ he'd lost his wand. He was sure they wouldn't believe him if he told them he was framed. They would probably assume he had discarded his wand on purpose after torturing the Muggles and conjuring the Dark Mark.

            As soon as Draco put the cloak on, he felt a throbbing sensation in his stomach that traveled downward and upward, spreading everywhere until he felt the throbbing pain all over his body. He looked down and gasped as he saw the cloak melting into his skin, causing it to start changing, turning slightly darker, almost as if he was getting a rapid tan. His head prickled and he saw one of his blonde locks, which had fallen into his eye, shortening. He didn't see what color it changed into. As his hair was changing, so was his face, and it felt as though a hot pressure was rearranging it. He felt a burning at the front of his eyes until finally the hot pressure lessened on his head- but then it moved to his body.

            Looking down once again, he felt the pain shooting through his bones and muscles as they changed. He could see beneath his tanned arms the muscles increasing slightly, making them look stronger than they had looked before. As soon as it had come, the searing pain left. He knew now that he could escape quite easily because he looked completely different. The Cloak of Identity had given him an easy getaway. He didn't worry about how he was going to get it off at the moment- he was too preoccupied with just trying to get out of Diagon Alley.

            Draco stepped out of the side alley cautiously, observing the chaos and looking around nervously to see whether anyone would pursue him. As he looked to his right, he saw a group of Aurors running towards him. He panicked and thought the cloak hadn't worked. He didn't have a chance to flee- but it didn't matter as the anxious Aurors ran right by him, not pausing to give him a second glance.

            He wandered over to Fluorish and Blotts and pushed through the frenzied crowd to the store window- and inhaled sharply, astonished. Staring back at him was a wide-eyed young man with tan skin and dark brown hair. It was nearly black. He looked nothing like the adolescent with the small, skinny body and pale, pointed face he had been moments before. He looked quite the opposite.

            He was bigger- he had become more muscular and slightly taller. He grinned at his intimidating physique. He wouldn't need Crabbe and Goyle to back him up anymore. He had a completely different face as well. He had a strong jaw and cheekbones and his straight nose looked very Roman. His eyebrows were as dark as his hair. He leaned in closer to the store window and saw his eyes had turned dark brown with yellow flecks in the irises. He had to admit he looked good. He smirked, and was glad to see it looked very much like the sneer he would use on his old face. He glanced down at his clothes- they had remained the same, except they had altered to fit his new body, as most magically manufactured clothes do. Still looking down, something caught his eye.

            It was his wand! The long, black piece of wood was lying very close to the building- so close, it would have been impossible to see unless you were very close to the building. He looked around quickly, bent down and picked up his wand hastily while no one was looking. He put it in his robes and strode away from the bookshop.

            But where was he to go? A million questions were running through his mind while he walked through the still-panicking crowd on Diagon Alley. Aurors were everywhere, checking all the blonde-haired wizards and a few witches with short hair. 

            Who would frame him? Who would pose as him and torture those Muggles? Were the Death Eaters responsible? Draco didn't think so. His father would have told him. Unless this was some sort of test… He didn't know what to believe. He decided to ask his father, he would know what was happening, and if he didn't, well, he didn't want to think of that right now.

***

            Ten minutes later Draco was stepping into the sitting room of Malfoy Manor, having just traveled by floo powder. He glanced around the luxurious space, expecting to see his parents sitting on the expensive sofas taking their tea. They weren't there. A house-elf appeared a second later with a loud _crack!_

            "May I help you, sir?" The elf asked in its high pitched voice, looking very anxious. He looked down at the elf with a mixed expression of disdain and annoyance.

            "Where are my parents?"

            "I is begging your pardon sir, I do not know who you are. Do you wish to speak with my master, sir? Or perhaps you is hoping to see master's son, sir?" The elf asked, clearly terrified.

            "Alright, alright. Please bring me to _Mister_ Malfoy." Draco said, annoyed that he had to address his father in this way.

            "Please stay here, sir. I will go get my master."

            The elf disappeared and Draco shook his head in disgust at its fear. He sat down on one of the expensive leather sofas, settling himself in the way he was accustomed to.

            Lucius Malfoy appeared a moment later, staring down at the boy who used to be the spitting image of himself with great dislike and annoyance. Much as the boy had been looking at the house-elf not two minutes earlier.

            "Who are you and what do want?" the elder Malfoy snapped. "And get up from the sofa. You have no right to be sprawling about in my mansion, as you are an uninvited guest."

            "Relax, father. It's me, Draco. That little spectacle you and your _friends_ pulled earlier in Diagon Alley was great fun," Draco said, referring to the Death Eaters. "Although I still don't understand why you wanted to frame me."

            "I don't know what you're talking about, young man, but I'm an inch away from calling M.L.E.S. on you for trespassing." He said, eyes flashing. 

            Draco gave him a sardonic smirk. "You won't call the Magical Law Enforcement Squad."

            "I won't?"

            "No, you won't. If a real intruder came here, you would torture him until he told you why he came, and if he intended to harm you in some way, you would kill him." Draco said matter-of-factly, enjoying the look of surprise on his father's face. Lucius quickly recomposed his face – Malfoy's were never caught off guard, and if they were, they wouldn't let on that they were.

            "Who are you?"

            "I told you. I'm your son, Draco. When you or one of your colleagues pulled that stunt, I had to take drastic measures. It looks as though I'll be this way for a while, if not permanently," _until I find my 'true love' anyways_… Draco thought, but didn't tell his father this information. He knew his father would react badly to such a horrible cliché.

            "Where is my son? Do you want some kind of payment?" Lucius now demanded. He obviously thought the person he was talking to was his son's kidnapper, not his actual son.

            "_I'm your son._" Draco said, exasperated. "I know it must have been the Death Eaters' who framed me today. Is it some kind of test?"

            Lucius pulled out his wand and pointed it at Draco's chest. "I don't know what you're insinuating, but unless you tell me who you are, I will not hesitate to extract the information myself. And I will _not_ be gentle." He said, the fury radiating off of his body. Draco knew he wouldn't be able to convince him, and that he would soon be dead. Lucius raised his wand and opened his mouth, about to curse him.

            "Lucius?" His mother's voice floated down from the next floor, inadvertently saving his life. Lucius looked away and in that moment, Draco sprinted away from him.

            Barely pausing to grab a handful of floo powder and throwing it into the flames, he ran into the fire, not looking back at the hexes being shot at him.


	3. Austin Malloy

DISCLAIMER: The Harry Potter Universe isn't mine, it belongs to the great mind of JK Rowling. Only in my dreams do I own Draco…

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far! Once again, I have to give credit to Winddance, who gave me this idea, and who is continually giving me help with my atrocious writing. She's already bailed me out more times than I can count, and I've only written 3 chapters! If you haven't already, check out her story, "Undead." She wants reviews as much as I do, even if she doesn't update as often as she should. ;)

Chapter 3

**Austin Malloy**

Draco approached the heavy oak doors and tried to open them to no avail. He proceeded to pound on them until his fist ached. The young man waited anxiously, still shaking from his encounter with his father.

            Draco had traveled on the floo network to The Three Broomsticks, the pub in the village of Hogsmeade. Then he had walked to the place where the only person who would believe him resided.

            After an agonizing minute, the door was opened to reveal a stern, dark-haired witch with a severe bun. She stared at Draco in mild surprise.

            "Yes? Can I help you?"

            "I need to see Albus Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall." He explained hurriedly.

            "Oh, really? Do you think the Headmaster of Hogwarts has nothing better to do than talk to strange teenage boys?" she replied sternly, scrutinizing his face closely, "Have we met? What is your name?"

            "Please, Professor, it is _imperative_ that I speak to Dumbledore."

            "What is your name?" she repeated, when she heard his strained voice.

            "It's, er… Austin Malloy." He remembered hearing his mother say the name once, but he didn't know whom the name belonged to.

            Professor McGonagall stepped back, indicating that he should enter. He barely glanced at what would have been a very impressive entrance hall to a stranger, since he had seen it many times before. McGonagall was examining his face again, as if trying to gauge his reaction to the grand place. She seemed a little vexed when he showed no interest.

            "Wait here, Mr. Malloy. I'll go see if the Headmaster's busy."

            She strode away quickly, leaving Draco to wait. The time seemed very long because he was jumping at every noise and shadow, thinking his father might appear from nowhere and hex him.

            McGonagall came back ten minutes later. "The Headmaster will see you now. Follow me, please."

            Draco followed her down the familiar corridors, smirking softly as different memories crept into his mind. He reminisced on the good times at Hogwarts as he followed the woman who had been his teacher for four years and didn't know it.

            They stopped in front of the stone gargoyle that hid the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

            "Marzipan Paste." she said briskly. The gargoyle leapt aside, exposing the moving spiral staircase. A minute later, they were in front of the door leading to his office. McGonagall knocked and a voice called, "Come in."

            They entered and stood before Dumbledore. 

            "This is Austin Malloy, Professor Dumbledore." McGonagall said, turning to him. He looked back at her, trying to convey his desire to speak with Dumbledore alone non-verbally.

            "Thank you, Professor McGonagall." Dumbledore said, leaving McGonagall no choice but to excuse herself. When she left, Dumbledore turned his gaze toward him.

            "So," the aged and wizened wizard said, "you wanted to speak with me, Mr. Malloy."

            "Actually, sir, my name isn't Austin Malloy. I made that up because I knew Professor McGonagall wouldn't believe me if I told her who I really was."

            "Oh? And why do you think I would believe you?"

            "Because, sir, I think you would be more… open to hearing my story." Draco said carefully, not wanting to make it seem like he was insulting McGonagall's judgment.

            "I see. Would you care to tell me what your real name is?"

            "It's Draco Malfoy, sir. I know what you must be thinking, you probably heard what happened in Diagon Alley, and you've got to believe me when I say I was framed."            Dumbledore gave Draco a piercing stare that seemed to see right through him into the very window of his soul. Unnerved by the intense look, Draco began telling him all about the cloak and what happened in Diagon Alley, and of the scene with his father. Dumbledore listened intently throughout his discourse. When he finished, the Headmaster gave him that same penetrating gaze. He nodded.

            "I believe you. I have heard of that cloak before, and your account of how it altered you coincides with other accounts of owners of the Zoyan cloak. Surviving owners, that is."

            "Sir, why wouldn't the surviving owners destroy the cloak after it came off them?"

            "Because it served its purpose. It was made to help people find their soul mates. They were grateful it had found them their true loves, so to speak, and wanted other people to find the same happiness they had."

            They sat for a moment in silence, Draco pondering what Dumbledore had said. He was also distracted by something else. He still had one major concern.

            "Sir? What…what am I going to do?" He asked quietly. It was Dumbledore's turn to ponder for a few minutes.

            "I think," he said finally, "that you would be most safe here. We don't know who framed you or why. Someone may want to bring harm to you. So you will continue your studies here, as a transfer student named Austin Malloy." He smiled kindly at Draco.

            "But there are a few important things we must go over. I must ask you to keep this completely secret; no one is to know who you really are besides me. I won't even tell any of the staff. And as an extra precaution, I think you should be Sorted into a different house."

            Draco stared at him, perplexed. "Borgin said the cloak only changed the outward appearance of a person, they're still the same inside. If I put on the Sorting Hat again, it would just proclaim me a Slytherin again."

            "Not necessarily," Dumbledore said. "The hat doesn't just Sort you based on what's in your mind, it goes by the choice you make. It's not what personality you have that makes you who you are, it's the choices you make in life. Most students choose their houses without intending to. When you were Sorted, you were confident enough to assume you would be placed in Slytherin, am I correct?" Draco nodded.

            "But your assumption became your choice. You chose to be placed in Slytherin. It's true that the people who have the same qualities as their houses are Sorted accordingly, but by having those qualities or intentions, they inadvertently choose their house. Therefore," he said, standing up and walking to the tattered Sorting Hat, "I think you should try on this hat again, only this time, do not let Slytherin be one of your choices."

            "Why shouldn't I be Sorted into Slytherin? I would keep everything a secret, I swear."

            Dumbledore sighed. "I have faith that you _will_ be able to go by a different name and story without conflict; I'm worried that someone else will figure out who you are. You have a very unique personality, Mr. Malfoy. I think your peers in Slytherin would be able to see that." He picked up the Sorting Hat and handed it to Draco. Draco stared at it, resigned, and placed it on his head.

            "Austin Malloy." said a quiet voice in his ear, "I can see I've Sorted you before, yet I have no recollection of it. Why would you need to be Sorted for a second time?" Draco said and thought nothing.

            "No matter, I know just where to place you."

            Draco panicked. The Hat had made his decision too quickly, it was going to place him in Slytherin. He thought, _I don't want to be in Slytherin. I don't want to be in Slytherin…_ He repeated over and over like a mantra. 

            "How did you know I would place you in Slytherin? I can see it in your head, the ambition, the guile, the need to prove yourself. You'd be perfect in Slytherin…" Draco kept chanting his mantra. 

_I don't want to be in Slytherin. I don't want to be in Slytherin. I don't-_

"Alright, alright," the Hat scoffed, "Even with your drive and the shadows of before, I choose for you GRYFFINDOR!" The Hat bellowed needlessly.

Draco pulled the hat off and practically threw it at Dumbledore. Feeling the anger building inside him, he looked up at the old wizard.

"I can't be in Gryffindor."

"Really?" Dumbledore said. He didn't seem to have noticed the change in Draco, or perhaps he had chosen to ignore it.

"I don't mean to sound redundant, but you chose where you were placed."

"I didn't say I wanted to be placed in _Gryffindor_," Malfoy said, still furious at the Hat's decision, "I just said I didn't want to be in Slytherin. Can I try it again?" he asked, reaching for the Hat he had recently gotten rid of.

Dumbledore turned away and placed it back on its shelf. He then turned to face Draco, and for the first time that day, he saw Dumbledore's usually twinkling eyes now burning. Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Dumbledore spoke in an even tone.

"I also told you the qualities a student has decides for him or herself if they can't choose a house. All students in Hogwarts history have been only Sorted once, except for you. You shouldn't take something like this for granted." Draco nodded his head numbly.

"Now, Mr. Malfoy, I suggest you become acquainted with Gryffindor tower. I'll have Professor McGonagall show you the way. We'll need to meet again to discuss your situation, before the term starts in one week."

Draco left Dumbledore's office and followed McGonagall towards Gryffindor house several minutes later. He barely noticed where he was going because he was still reeling with the idea of being the new Gryffindor. He knew he would regret not knowing the way to the tower later, but he couldn't prevent the apprehensive thoughts of the upcoming year from consuming him, leaving his body to follow McGonagall silently.


	4. The New Gryffindor

DISCLAIMER: The Potterverse wasn't, isn't, and never will be mine. So I'll just have to content myself by stealing other people's ideas and pretending they're mine…

A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long to get here! *hangs head in shame* A lot of stuff got in the way. First I had a panic attack over the plot, and then I couldn't contact my muse, and then I was just being lazy. Finally I made myself sit down and write it – and I'm glad I did. Despite all my horrendous mistakes my poor beta had to suffer through, it's my favorite chapter so far, and the longest, too! I hope you'll forgive me. It's really all thanks to Winddance; she (as usual) picked my sorry ass up off the ground and saved the day once again. So this chapter is dedicated to Winddance, for being my hero! J Go check out her story, "Undead," if you've a mind…

Chapter 4

**The New Gryffindor**

            Draco met with Dumbledore several times over the next week to discuss his new persona with the wise Headmaster. It was very important that he didn't reveal his true identity because he did something that reminded everyone of the fugitive Slytherin. He remembered one lesson in particular, when the Headmaster outlined the things he wasn't supposed to do. It had been a bit odd, to discuss his normal personality in such a blunt manner. He remembered specifically when Dumbledore had turned to him, looking calm, but with the mischievous glint in his twinkling blue eyes betraying his serene façade.

            "As you may, or may not know, Mr. Malfoy, there are some… distinct differences between how Slytherins and Gryffindors act. You must understand these nuances of the personality of the Gryffindors in order to succeed in making people believe you are an entirely new person who has never walked the halls of Hogwarts. Your interactions, especially, will be under a microscope of sorts, as I understand there is quite a gossip network among young people." He paused. "Although it does exist among the elder generations as well." The confusion must have been evident in Draco's face, because the Professor smiled before continuing.

            "It's not all interaction, I suppose. A lot of it has to do with how you deal with different people. Slytherins, for example, are much more sociable with each other, whereas Gryffindors will normally socialize with anyone, excepting Slytherins, of course." The old wizard's eyes were still twinkling, as if he enjoyed explaining house prejudices.

            "I don't quite understand what you mean, sir."

            "Well, to put it bluntly, and a bit coarsely, you mustn't let other people's backgrounds discourage you from being friendly with them."

            Draco sighed with resigned understanding. "Are you expecting to get along with people I normally wouldn't? I don't think everyone in Gryffindor _wants_ to be best buddies with Longbottom or Granger."

            Dumbledore was unfazed by Draco's comment. "I don't think so either, but I know that all Gryffindors are still civil and friendly towards them, despite their abilities or blood. Consequently, I don't wish to hear any reports of derogatory terms being used by our new transfer." 

            Draco smirked, realizing something for the first time. "You're going to use this undercover identity as an opportunity for me to learn from this _ideal_ experience, aren't you? Slytherins are not the only ones who shun people because they don't like them. I know for a fact all the Gryffindors, including Potter, only tolerate Longbottom because he's a bumbling idiot who has no friends."

            "I would appreciate it, Mr. Malfoy, if you didn't insult your housemates, as you will undoubtedly have a rough year without any positive relationships in Gryffindor tower. In fact, I'll expect you to be very tolerant of everyone in your house, on my request, because I am doing you a great favor by allowing you to hide here. I could have just as easily turned you away when you came here looking for help in a disguise." Dumbledore's eyes were no longer twinkling; they were blazing. Draco shifted uncomfortably at the knowledge that he was the cause of Dumbledore's shift of character. He looked down at his hands.

            "I understand."

            Draco was currently sitting in his new dorm room, looking in his textbooks for the upcoming year. Normally he wouldn't have opened them until the first day of classes; but he had a lot of free time, being confined to the castle for a week prior to the beginning of term. He had spent most of it wandering the castle and reading; feeling very frustrated that he didn't have his Nimbus Two Thousand and One for rides out on the Quidditch pitch. It was quite boring.

            Draco sighed and looked out the window at the twilight briefly before returning to his Transfiguration text. He did a double take, looking out the window again, for something had caught his eye.

            Making their way toward the castle were numerous horseless carriages. The students were arriving! Draco had forgotten that tonight was the Welcoming Feast; he had been planning on skipping dinner in the Great Hall that evening, because it was just too weird to sit and eat dinner with all of his teachers, without his peers. He was going to get dinner later from the house-elves. 

            Upon seeing the carriages, however, Draco knew that he would have to dine in the Great Hall. It was time to start his life as Austin Malloy.

            Draco entered the Great Hall before the students arrived, and took a seat at the Gryffindor table near the back and closest to the wall. It was a good thing the table was located on the far side of the Hall against the wall. He was hoping to remain unnoticed for the most part, as he was not feeling confident. The teachers, save McGonagall and Hagrid, were already seated at the staff table. Dumbledore smiled merrily upon him, and most of the other teachers gave him sympathetic smiles as well. Except for Snape, who was looking upon him with what looked like dislike. But that couldn't be possible. Draco had been Snape's favorite student. He must just have been upset with the prospect of facing the returning students, the majority of which he seemed to hate.

            Dumbledore hadn't told the teachers his real identity. He believed they should take as many safety precautions as possible, for it would be too easy for students to overhear teachers discussing him. Draco was sure that once he had his first class with Snape, the potions master would recognize his potential, as he always had before, and become his favorite once again.

            The returning students started streaming through the doors leading to the Entrance Hall and sitting down at their respective tables. The noise level grew as more students entered. Draco recognized many of the students, and suddenly felt awkward that he was sitting all alone. Not that he would let them see it. He sat perfectly relaxed, almost bored; the years of training himself to always display a calm aura were paying off.

            He noticed Crabbe and Goyle, his old bodyguards, enter together, looking confused. Well, more so than usual. They probably felt aimless now that they had no one to lead them. They sat down with Millicent Bulstrode, looking down the table, as if they were expecting to see someone. Draco grimaced. Did they honestly think they would see him here, of all places, when he was on the run from the ministry? They were right, of course, but they weren't looking for a new transfer student who had been sorted into Gryffindor.

            The tables were filling quickly now, Draco saw more people that he recognized, and then he got a funny feeling, as if he were being watched. He looked around. And he saw them. He hadn't been expecting the stares he was getting – he knew he'd get some, being a new student who wasn't a first year, but these weren't entirely stares of curiosity. He seemed to be getting a lot of attention from the female population of Hogwarts. He finally allowed himself to shift uncomfortably. He could stay calm in the face of fire, or the fury of his father, but not under the appraising looks from all over the Great Hall.

            Still, even with the curious stares and looks of approval, no one moved to sit near him. He was beginning to feel embarrassed, which wasn't something that happened very often. Many students were looking his way and whispering to their neighbors. Determined not to let the school population see him uncomfortable, he looked over at the doors where a few students were still straggling in – and saw three people he didn't want to see. They made their way to his table, and he looked around frantically, hoping there would be enough seats to allow them to sit anywhere but near him. Unfortunately there were only a few scattered single seats – except near him. Draco groaned inwardly as the source of all irritation for him headed to the few seats nearest to his place.

            "Mind if we sit here?" The tallest of the trio asked Draco, looking curious but pleasant.

            _No, you are certainly NOT welcome to sit here,_ Draco thought to himself, plastering a smile on his face.

            "Sure."

            Ron sat next to Draco, while Hermione and Harry sat across from them. Draco was shaking with fury on the inside, he glanced up at Dumbledore, who was looking back on his current situation and smiling widely. _It's as if he planned this… _but that was impossible. Wasn't it?

            He turned back to the Dream Team, 1/3 of which was asking him something.

            "Are you new here?" Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived himself, asked Draco. If it wouldn't have blown his cover, Draco would have glared disdainfully at the savior of the wizarding world.

            "Yes." He said in a slightly strained voice, then took a deep, steadying breath. "I'm the new transfer student."

            Parvati and Lavender, who were seated next to Harry and Hermione, turned to him. Draco nearly smirked, they had been part of the whispering females who kept shooting him glances. If only they knew they were gossiping about the evilest Slytherin…

            "Really?" Parvati asked, batting her long eyelashes. _This could be fun…_ "From where?"

            "I was home schooled," Draco began, mentally preparing himself to tell the story of his life he had been taught by Dumbledore.

            "Why are you coming here now?" The female counterpart of the Golden Trio asked.

            "Hermione, don't be rude." Lavender snapped. Draco nearly snickered. A Gryffindor, sticking up for him?

            "It's okay. I'm coming here now," he paused, making sure the girls saw him swallow before continuing, "because my parents are dead."

            "I'm so sorry, I had no idea." Hermione saw softly. Draco nearly lost his façade, he must have looked shocked. Luckily the rest of the group took his bewildered look as one of pain and anguish.

            "I'm sorry, too." Draco looked over at Harry, who was looking at him in sympathy and understanding. The look was very unnerving; he didn't want the pity of his archenemy. He must have been looking at him pretty strangely, because Ron spoke up.

            "If anyone understands, Harry does. This is Harry Potter." He regarded Harry without shock or surprise, which must have confused Harry, who looked as if he was expecting Draco to react excessively, as all witches and wizards did when they met the famous Harry Potter. Draco couldn't, it went too much against his nature to do so. He nearly grimaced.

            "I'm Austin Malloy."

            Lavender turned away and giggled while Parvati looked at her in confusion and Hermione blushed a shade of bright red.

            "What? Think my name's funny, do you?" he demanded, and then mentally cursed himself. He had said the same thing five years ago in front of Harry and Ron. And Crabbe and Goyle, but they were far from the Gryffindor table. Ron and Harry looked at him oddly and he tried to recover quickly.

            "I mean, w-what's so funny?" He stammered, angry at himself for doing so. Malfoy's didn't stammer.

            "It's… nothing." Hermione said, still looking quite flushed.

            Strange as the introduction was, it did do one good thing. Harry and Ron were now looking over at Hermione. Lavender whispered to Parvati, and she giggled as well. Draco was perplexed. He couldn't help what came out of his mouth next.

            "Barking, the lot of you."

            Harry and Ron rounded on him, looking angry.

            "I-I, uh, I mean, I didn't mean to say that." he finally said. "I just don't understand what's so amusing."

            "Neither do we," Ron said, "but, you know, _girls_." He said in a conspiratorial tone, as if the one simple word explained everything of the female psyche.

            "Too right." Harry agreed. "Anyway, seeing as we haven't introduced ourselves, this is Ron, that's Hermione, and next to us is Parvati and Lavender," he said pointing to each person in turn.

            "Nice to meet you." Hermione said, who seemed to have recovered. Parvati and Lavender were still whispering. It was beginning to annoy Draco; but it didn't matter, because suddenly the group of first years, led by McGonagall, entered and approached the stool where the sorting hat was already set up. The Hall was suddenly hushed, and the hat began its song.

            After all the first years had been sorted and cheered accordingly, Dumbledore stood up to make the usual start of term announcements.

            "Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! And a special welcome to _all_ of our new students," he said, glancing at the first years and settling on Draco. "As I'm sure you're all starving, I'll make this quick.

            "The Forbidden Forrest is still forbidden. If it wasn't it would just be called the Forrest." He chuckled at his own joke. "Remember, no magic is to be used in the corridors between classes, and a new class will be available to fifth years and seventh years this year, details on which will be discussed later. For now, eat well!"

            And immediately, the enchanted plates filled with food. Draco was hungry, he had skipped lunch to avoid the Great Hall and the teachers. He was glad to be surrounded by students, even if they were students he abhorred. He hated eating while the teachers kept casting sympathetic glances toward him, because they believed his parents were dead and he had come a week early because he had nowhere else to go. He helped himself to some Yorkshire pudding and the noise level resumed. Luckily, the girls seemed to have forgotten whatever they had been laughing at earlier, although a lot of people were still openly staring at him curiously. He fought the urge to glare at everyone.

            "So, has anyone seen the Daily Prophet today?" Hermione asked the group, although appearing offhand, it was obvious that she wasn't being casual.

            "No, why?" Harry said eagerly. _Right, _Draco thought, _he probably doesn't get it with those muggles he hates…_

            "Draco Malfoy." Ron said. Draco sputtered and choked on his pudding, earning odd glances from his tablemates.

            "Who?" he asked, wondering what was in the paper about him.

            "You know, that sadistic git who tortured those muggles and is now on the run from the Ministry. It's really lucky you didn't have to meet him, Austin. He's the worst aspect of Hogwarts. Except maybe Snape…" Ron added thoughtfully.

            Draco couldn't help the murderous thoughts. Standing up and throwing down his fork, resorting back to his poisoned-filled voice, he asked in a dangerous tone that was undeniably Malfoy, "WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY, WEASLEY?!"

            Gryffindor table had gone silent. "Uh…" Draco thought frantically. "Sorry, I, er, sometimes have trouble controlling the level my voice. Side effect of an old hex gone astray." he said nervously, looking up and down the table to see whether they believed him. All the Gryffindors were still staring at him perplexed, but seemed to accept this explanation.

            "S-so this Draco Malfoy was a pretty shady character, eh?" he said, resuming his seat.

            "The hex affects the movement of your legs, does it?" came a voice from Draco's left. One of the Weasley twins – he didn't know which was which, but it didn't matter as he hadn't known their names in the first place – was still staring at him curiously, but slightly amused. "Because you jumped a mile high right when you were screaming."

            It took a lot of Draco's will to not say something to the Weasley that would take that grin right off his face. "Uh, it was my food." He cringed at the weak explanation. "It burned my tongue.

            "How did you know my last name?" Now the speaker was once again the youngest male Weasley. Draco winced inwardly. Denial was the best way to go.

            "You told me."

            "No, I didn't."

            "_Yes_, you did."

            "_No_ –" Ron was unable to continue his argument due to Hermione.

            "Stop it, Ron. He's new. Don't badger him."

            Draco shot a grateful look at one of his enemies; surprised she had come to his defense against one of her best friends.

            "Anyway, you were saying about Malfoy, Hermione?" Harry asked.

            "Right, well, he was spotted in the south of Europe. It looks like he's going to be caught soon. I hope he doesn't have to come back here if they catch him…" All gratitude Draco had felt for Hermione instantly disappeared.

            Ron scoffed. "Not bloody likely. He'll be sent to Azkaban for what he did. Did you hear about the Cannons' new chaser, Harry?" Ron directed his attention toward his other best friend.

            Draco zoned Ron out and drifted on his thoughts. How could he have been spotted in the south of Europe? Was it the same person who had impersonated him in Diagon Alley? Although this train of thought left him quickly, as he knew he was perfectly safe under the new identity of Austin Malloy. As he finished the meal and headed up to his new dormitory, he was more concerned with a topic that was more crucial to his present situation.

            Would he be able to control himself in front of his enemies of five years while he kept up this charade? The first day of classes sure would be interesting…


	5. A Fateful Question

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter or enough money to be sued. Please don't.

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out… I'm trying to post regularly, but it doesn't seem to be working. This chapter was going to be much longer than it is, which I wouldn't have minded, but then it would have taken more time to write it all up. So I thought this would be alright to post…

I realize I've been incredibly vain throughout the posting of this story. Every chapter I should have said how much I love the reviewers. THANKS to everyone who has reviewed! You have NO IDEA how much I appreciate reviews. It makes an author feel so proud when people have responded to what you've written (even if it's not a positive response). Thanks to: Vesha, Bienfoy, smart-witch31, Winddance, Elfmoon87, teline, Teri, Crystal*Tears, and Larz. (All reviewers as of: 2/7/03, 6:00 pm, EST) I love my reviewers! Thanks again!

And an even more special thanks to Winddance, who's my muse and beta; and who doesn't insult me when I switch tenses halfway through the chapter. (I LOVE YOU!!!) Go read "Undead" by Winddance. After you've read this chapter, of course… ;)

Please R/R; it's what I live for.

Chapter 5

**A Fateful Question**

            Draco stirred restlessly in his sleep, disturbed by a vivid dream. In his vision, Voldemort was standing on a deserted moor. Deserted, that is, except for him, in his real body, standing not ten feet from him. There was something else there as well; Draco could sense it, but he couldn't see it.

            "Draco Malfoy. You have disappointed me gravely. You were about to be closer to me, closer to what will be the triumphant side, closer than many who would have done much more to obtain that status. It is of little consequence; your position has been filled by another. Yet I thought you were well deserving of that place, and you are nowhere to be found. Where are you, my young, _loyal_ supporter? Why are you running from your Lord? What you did in Diagon Alley was a bit rash, not to mention contrary to your character, but you must know I wouldn't mind it. Not in the least. It instills fear in people who are foolhardy enough to believe that there is nothing left to fear.

            "Why are you eluding me? When you should be with your comrades, celebrating; you disappear from sight. You're obviously alive; if you weren't, we wouldn't be dream-fasting. Where are you? Speak."

            During his speech in that cold and heartless tone, Lord Voldemort had been slowly closing the distance between him and Draco. He now stood directly in front of Draco; reaching out a gray scaly hand and wrapping it around Draco's neck.

            "Speak." He said again, more insistently. His cold, clammy hand squeezed tighter and Draco woke up with a yelp. 

            The cold clamminess was still there. Draco looked down, expecting to see Voldemort's long fingers still clutching his neck. But they weren't there – in the place of the horrifying digits was a fat toad, sitting on Draco's neck. 

            Draco yelped again – not with shock, but with indignation. He grasped the toad and flung it across the room, where – 

            "Ahh!!!" Ron Weasley yelled. Something cold had hit his bare back, as he had just come back from his shower. He whirled around and glared at Draco.

            "What do you think you're playing at, Malloy?" the red-haired, now red-faced boy demanded. Draco took a deep breath, about to hurl insults at the boy who was known for being quick to accuse. Before he got a chance, however, a sleepy voice to his right jumped in, sounding a little embarrassed.

            "It's not his fault, Ron," Neville said, "Trevor got away from me. I saw him jump on Austin's neck, and Austin was just surprised. He didn't throw it at you on purpose. Sorry, Austin." Neville looked meekly at him. Remembering that Gryffindors were supposed to forgive fools like Longbottom easily, Draco pushed his anger down beneath his calm façade, not for the last time.

            "It's alright, Long - …Neville." Draco struggled to push aside his Malfoy pride and indignation as he slowly turned to Ron and utter the words he'd never thought he would say to a Weasley.

            "Sorry, Ron."

            Ron grumbled something unintelligible and noticed Harry for the first time that morning; he had just sat up looking pale and shaky.

            "Harry, you alright, mate? Harry…?" Ron said again when he didn't respond…

***

            Harry acknowledged Ron finally. "Uh… yeah, I'm alright."

            "You sure?" 

            The truth was that he wasn't. He had dreamed of Voldemort accusing Draco Malfoy of hiding from him… Harry had been jolted awake by Ron's yell. His scar was stinging, but he paid it no heed. He was trying to focus on his dream, which was slowly slipping away from him, as had all the times he connected with Voldemort. Why would Malfoy hide from Voldemort? As far as Voldemort was concerned, Malfoy had done him a favor… Harry decided there was only one thing to do. He had to see Dumbledore to tell him what he knew. And he would have to write to his godfather… Harry turned to Ron, no longer shaking, confident in his plan.

            "Actually, I do have a bit of a headache. I think I'll go see Madam Pomfrey before breakfast." Harry had gotten up at this time and was dressing. "I'll see you later, at our first class."

            "Okay…" Ron said, unconvinced, as Harry headed out the door of the boys' dormitory.

***

            Draco was still staring at the door, where Harry's figure had been just a minute ago. Harry had acted very strangely; but perhaps that was normal. Draco realized he was still sitting on his bed, deep in thought, and Ron had now turned his puzzled gaze to him. Draco shook himself and rose from bed to start getting ready.

            Draco arrived in the Great Hall a half an hour later, and proceeded to his seat. More of the same whispering from the previous night erupted, and Draco decided to indulge his audience. He smiled at a few of the girls as he made his way to the Gryffindor table, causing blushes and more fervent murmurs. He sat down and chuckled softly.

            "Adjusting well, are you?" Hermione asked from his right, eyebrow arched and voice dripping with sarcasm. He hadn't realized that he had placed himself next to her. Had he been paying attention, he would have sat somewhere else, anywhere else. But since he had sat down, and his new persona had no problem with her, he forced himself to smile and stayed firmly planted in his seat.

            "As well as can be expected."

            Ron and Harry entered the Great Hall and hurried over to them, looking worried.

            "What's wrong?" Hermione asked immediately upon seeing them.

            "We…we'll tell you later." Ron said quickly, casting a wary eye in Draco's direction. Draco rolled his eyes, but was secretly glad they had given him this opportunity.

            "I can take a hint. I'll go sit somewhere else. Where are Lavender and Parvati? I think they want another chance to jump at me, anyway…"

            "No!" exclaimed the Boy-Who-Refused-To-Exclude-Anyone, even though the noble Harry Potter looked like he desperately wanted to speak to his friends privately. "Don't worry about it, Austin. We don't want you to have to suffer the most important meal of the day with those harpies. What classes are you taking?" he asked eagerly, keen to get over the awkward moment. Draco wanted to roll his eyes again, but Austin Malloy's gracious Gryffindor personality prevented him from doing so. He contorted his grimace into a smile.

            "All the mandatory classes; and my electives are Arithmancy and Ancient Runes."

            "Oh, really? Were you good at those subjects at your old school?" Ron asked eagerly, glad for the change in subject. 

"I was home schooled…" Draco said softly, congratulating himself on sounding so convincingly depressed. 

_Well, my parents _are_ supposed to be dead…_

Ron grimaced. "Sorry, mate. I didn't mean to… bring up a delicate subject."

"It's okay."

The four students were saved by another imminent awkward silence by the sound of rushing and fluttering wings in the air. The morning post had arrived.

Draco gazed at the throng of numerous owls – this would be the first time he didn't get his usual care package from home on the first day of term. Therefore he was completely surprised when he saw his family's eagle owl swoop in. He wasn't the only one who noticed.

"Look!" Ron said, pointing at the Malfoys' owl, Hunter. Harry looked upward and his eyes widened.

"But, how…?" He left the question unfinished as Hermione fixed her attention upward as well.

"What are you two going on about?"

The owl descended smoothly and landed in front of Dumbledore.

"I wonder what that's all about…" Ron said, furrowing his brow.

"What do you care if Malfoy's owl is here?" Hermione asked, perplexed. Draco's look mirrored Hermione's. What did Harry and Ron care if his father sent Dumbledore an owl? Did they suspect anything?

"By the way, Austin, Dumbledore wants to see you after breakfast," Harry said to him, still staring at Hunter; who had just taken off, having delivered his letter to the Headmaster.

"D-do you know why?" Draco stammered, trying to sound casual.

"No. It probably has something to do with your classes, or something like that. What else could it be?" _Indeed…_ Draco thought to himself, still marveling that he had made it so far without arousing suspicion. Well, at least not a lot of suspicion. Memories of the disaster of last night's meal clouded his mind.

"How did _you_ know Dumbledore wanted to see him?" Hermione asked, breaking his reverie.

"We… we saw him this morning on the way here," Ron said quickly. Too quickly. Hermione didn't press the issue; although Draco believed she, like him, thought there was more to it.

A tawny owl, one of the stragglers of the crowd, flew to Hermione and dropped a copy of the Daily Prophet next to her plate of toast and kippers. She picked it up and unfurled it as Harry, Ron, and Draco continued eating breakfast, each consumed by his own thoughts.

"Oh my goodness!" Hermione exclaimed. "Listen to this:

**CONVICTED RAPIST FOUND MURDERED BY RADICALS**

'The body of Dominic Rolin was discovered early this morning by one of his business associates inside his manor in York. Rolin was on trial last month for the rape and murder of many muggle and magical young women. He was undeniably guilty, but charges were not pressed because of mistakes made by the head investigators of this case from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad. 

_Rolin's manor house was found ransacked and Rolin himself was discovered in the sitting room; supposedly he had been taking in a nightcap before going to bed last evening when he was attacked and murdered. He appeared to have been slain by the killing curse, which carries the consequences of a lifetime in Azkaban for the caster._

_ It is unclear whether _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ was involved. On the front lawn of Rolin's house a large pentacle was burned into the ground; its discovery has mystified the authorities, as _You-Know-Who_ hasn't left symbols of this type in the ground before. It seems a new radical group has claimed responsibility._

In a statement shortly after the discovery of Rolin's body, the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, said, 'We have no reason to believe You-Know-Who is responsible for the death of Dominic Rolin. We have, however, received word that a group calling themselves Wands of Justice have declared themselves responsible for Rolin's death, claiming this was only the first in a line of actions with the intent of serving justice to the unjust by any means necessary. We're currently investigating these allegations and the group itself.'

The minister refused to make any more comments or answer any more questions.'

"And look, here it says, 'For full details on the trial and charges of Dominic Rolin, turn to page four.' Disgusting." Hermione said, wrinkling her nose and throwing down the paper.

"Wands of Justice, eh?" Ron said. "That's not a very good name, is it?"

Harry and Draco both burst out laughing. 

"It's not funny; Rolin raped and murdered over ten little girls!" Hermione exclaimed. The group quieted down. Luckily, Ron, Harry and Draco were saved from Hermione's glares as breakfast was ending. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all headed to the dungeons for their first potions lesson of the year; while Draco headed to the Headmaster's office. Draco thought more about the Daily Prophet article and let his feet lead the way to Dumbledore's office. He knew the route so well he didn't need to pay attention to where he was going.

One thing Draco knew for sure. The group was in no way affiliated with Voldemort. Before the chaos in Diagon Alley a little over a week ago, Draco had been preparing for initiation into the ranks of the Death Eaters. He had been competing with some other person to obtain the thirteenth spot of Voldemort's inner circle. He didn't know who that other person was, as Voldemort always insisted upon anonymity among his men. However, Voldemort knew every single Death Eater, especially the ones in his inner circle. Since Draco had been practically assured of his new position, he knew of everything that was being planned, and pretending to be a radical group for justice wasn't part of the plan.

 Well, now that I'm on the run, whoever that other person was got the thirteenth position…

Draco finally arrived to Dumbledore's office. He had always felt the place wasn't the office of a Headmaster, but the home of an eccentric old man, with its whirring silver instruments and phoenix perched behind him. It was the office of an eccentric old man, but that wasn't the point…

Dumbledore cast a silencing charm as soon as Draco entered. "Hello, Mr. Malfoy."

"Headmaster."

Dumbledore cut right to the chase. "Did you sleep well?"

Draco's brown eyes widened as he stared at Dumbledore in shock. How could he have known about the dream? Draco decided to let Dumbledore explain before he revealed anything. "Yes, sir."

"Did you not dream about Voldemort?"

It was too strange. Draco thought it best to be completely truthful. Up to a certain point, anyway.

"No, sir, I did."

"Ah, yes. Just as I thought. Mr. Malfoy, you can trust me. I'm assuming you didn't tell me everything on your first visit a week ago."

Draco didn't like what he was saying. "How did you know?"

"I suppose you do have some trust issues; how about this, if I tell you how I knew about the dream, then you tell me everything I wish to know,"

Draco narrowed his eyes. He definitely didn't like the way this was going. But he wanted to know how Dumbledore knew. Sometimes, Draco had the impression he could look right through him, but he couldn't possibly have known Draco was a bit upset over a dream without seeing him…

"Alright."

"I'm sure you know the story of how Mr. Potter obtained that interesting scar on his forehead?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course I do."

"I must impress upon you the seriousness of this discussion. What I tell you cannot leave this room; that is why I have cast a silencing charm."

Draco's eyes widened. He hadn't been expecting that. "Yes, sir."

"It seems when Voldemort gave Mr. Potter that scar, he gave some of himself to Mr. Potter. In a very peculiar way, they are connected. And when Voldemort is feeling particularly… vicious Mr. Potter can usually see what Voldemort sees."

Draco sat back stunned. Harry Potter had seen Voldemort threatening him?

"Does he-does he know?"

"I do not think he knows of your disguise. Apparently, in the dream, you were in your normal appearance. So he is not aware that he is sleeping right by the very person he dreamed about. I must ask you a question, and I want you to answer truthfully."

Draco stared at the old man and took note of his serious gaze and tense posture. This wouldn't be good.

"Were you planning on joining Voldemort as a Death Eater?"


	6. School Begins

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Potterverse, much as I'd like to.

A/N: So it's been about two weeks since last post… That's not too long of a wait, is it? I think the plot is dragging a bit; I do know where it's going, but I'm taking a looong time getting there. And I'm becoming bored with it; but I won't stop, don't worry. My writing style may slightly change in the next chapter to keep myself more entertained. I'm warning and apologizing in advance…

Thanks to everyone who reviewed: Winddance, mrs Malfoy, JulKat007, Dreaming One, smart-withc31 (and her new website ;D), Caroline Hal, and Vesha. Honestly, you guys make my day! 

Of course the mandatory thanks to Winddance, who turns my silly scribbles into something more professional. And the mandatory plug: "Undead" by Winddance. Go, read, now.

Please R/R!

Chapter Six

**School Begins**

            "Were you planning on joining Voldemort as a Death Eater?"

            Draco gave the old man a hard stare. He had promised himself he'd tell Dumbledore the truth up to a certain point (because it really _was_ generous of him to let Draco "hide" in Hogwarts), but this looked like that point. Telling him might have dire consequences. True, he wasn't a Death Eater yet; and thanks to the fool who had impersonated him, he probably wouldn't become one without a great deal of pain intended to remind him of the consequences of disloyalty.

            The truth wouldn't simply get Draco in trouble either; it would incriminate his father, too. Draco and Lucius didn't have what many would call a "typical" father-son relationship, but he respected the man greatly, and didn't want him to be jailed. Dumbledore might even try to jail _Draco,_ or at least interrogate him about the Dark Lord's plans. And Draco wasn't willing to be a snitch just to save face in front of  Dumbledore. That would certainly remove what little favor the Dark Lord still held him in.

            "No."

            Now it was Dumbledore's turn to scrutinize him closely. He had tried to sound very convincing, and he was sure he'd succeeded in doing so; but he also knew Dumbledore saw through most people's lies. It made Draco especially proud of his father, because the brilliant Headmaster hadn't been able to pin anything on Lucius – yet. 

Draco thought the best piece of advice his father had ever given him was: "Never get caught." Because of it, Draco had become an extremely cunning and discreet person. That must have been why Voldemort had told him the incident in Diagon Alley was "contrary to his character." There were times, however, when he became _too_ emotional and his calm façade would break. Like calling Hermione a Mudblood at nearly every chance he could – sometimes in front of teachers. 

            He missed that. He hadn't been able to properly insult anyone since he had donned the cloak. Maybe he could insult the Slytherins… The gracious Gryffindors never seemed to find that divergent to their noble personalities.

            "Mr. Malfoy, are you suggesting Mr. Potter was _lying_ to me?"

            "No." Had Draco known of them, he would have said a light bulb had turned on in his head; but, being a Malfoy and thereby purposefully ignorant of all things muggle, he would have claimed to have had a stroke of brilliance. It seemed lying would give _him_ all the best advantages possible.

            "No," he repeated more vehemently. He suspected Dumbledore knew he was lying, but rather than looking stern as most Headmasters would, he looked slightly amused.

            "_Harry_ could have seen those things and believed them to be true, but it was only a dream."

            "Indeed." Dumbledore gave Draco a calculating look. "Draco, what do _you_ want?" He resumed staring intently at him.

            Draco hadn't been expecting that. He had thought Dumbledore would keep pressing him for information. What did his aspirations have to do with any of this?

            _Oh right, the whole Death Eater initiation thing…_

            Draco decided it would be best to feign innocence.

            "What do you mean, sir?"

            Dumbledore didn't look fooled. In fact, he seemed more concerned than determined to discover information. "Understand that what is said in this office stays in this office. Tell me, what do you want more than anything in the world?"

            Draco was silent for a minute, and then gave the answer he knew to be true. 

            "To be respected," he said honestly. He ignored the nagging feeling that told him he wanted something else, something more. He'd felt it before, but he didn't want to acknowledge its existence or try to find out what it was precisely. 

            Respect, on the other hand, was the one thing he had always wanted. His father was a highly respected man; one who was respected because he was feared. Thus Draco had always inferred that one had to be feared in order to gain respect. This was the main reason Draco was going to become a Death Eater. He'd be greatly feared once he had gained this position, just as Lucius Malfoy was.

            "Do you believe you will gain respect by becoming a Death Eater?"

            Draco was surprised Dumbledore had voiced _his _thoughts, but he kept it concealed in his well-practiced bored look. He said nothing.

            "Mr. Malfoy, you already admitted you dreamt of Voldemort. Mr. Potter saw it, too; and no, I don't think he's suffering from delusions," he added at the look of protestation on Draco's face.

            Draco remained silent. Dumbledore waited with bated breath, his blue eyes switching their focus from Draco's right eye to his left and back again. The Headmaster sighed, and a disappointed look overtook his normally kindly features.

            "I see you're not ready to speak of this yet. Just know this, Draco, I will not judge you, I will try to help you in any way I can, if and when you are ready to talk. My office is always open." He breathed deeply and smiled, seeming to forget the conversation, or lack thereof, with Draco. "Now go off to class. I believe you are late for the first Potions lesson of the term. Although you haven't really had a problem with that before, have you, Mr. Malfoy?"

            "No…" Draco said slowly at the look on the Headmaster's face. His bright eyes were twinkling again, but Draco didn't understand the joke. He got up and left the office, and made his way to the dungeons.

            He entered the classroom and opened his mouth to apologize to Snape for being late, but the vindictive professor cut him off before he had a chance to speak.

            "Ah, Mr. Malloy. How nice of you to _grace_ us with your presence," Snape drawled. A few of the Slytherins snickered. Draco glared at them, expecting them to stop laughing, but they only looked more gleeful. Draco turned his attention back to his professor.

            "No, sir, you misunderstand. You see, Professor Dumbledore—"

            "_I_ misunderstand?" Snape spat. "I believe _you_ are the one who has misunderstood. You are attending one of the most prestigious wizarding schools now, and while you may have dallied the days away under your_ parents'_ instruction, you are now at Hogwarts, and tardiness is unacceptable. Five points shall be taken from Gryffindor for your lack of punctuality, and an additional five shall be taken for your peers' inability to communicate school policy to you. Now take a seat."

            Draco was shocked, to say the least. He just stood and stared at the professor with his mouth hanging open. Snape had never been that… that _mean_ to him.

            _He didn't even ask for an explanation! Is this how he treats all Gryffindors?_

            Snape was now staring at him in impatience and exasperation. "Do you _not_ understand? Take a seat, boy, before I take another ten points for disrespect and insubordination to a faculty member."

            Draco finally snapped out of his paralysis long enough to head slowly to the last available seat. He was seated next to Hermione for the second time the morning.

            _Of all the luck…_

            Draco suffered through his first class of the term, feeling more and more agitated as Hermione showed off all her knowledge throughout the lesson of the Mind-Numbing potions they were brewing that day.

            _It's already been a horrible day and I haven't even finished the first class…_

***

            Draco's day became progressively worse with barely a respite at lunch. He didn't normally do well academically on the first day of classes – no one did besides _Granger_ – but at least then he had his Slytherin friends to laugh with and ease the tension. Today his former cohorts made fun of and laughed at him at every opportunity, simply because he was the new kid, and a _Gryffindor_ no less; and he only had his _house mates_ for sympathy. Draco wasn't adjusting well. He was beginning to believe he was in a version of Hell and suddenly understood why so many people had killed themselves while they were trapped in the Zoyan cloak's spell. Being under a different identity and constantly ridiculed by those he had once counted as friends was enough to drive anyone insane.

            By dinner, Draco was so emotionally exhausted, his only desire was to eat and go to sleep. He made sure to go to the Great Hall early, so that he could pick his own seat and not have to summon the strength to pretend to like any of the Gryffindors "Austin Malloy" had already met. He seated himself beside some fourth year girls and glanced around. Dumbledore was staring at him and when Draco made eye contact with him, the old man _winked_. Draco felt a surge of anger. The crazy old coot thought it was amusing that Draco had to suffer through his current situation and pretend to like it. He turned his attention back to his food and started shoveling it in his mouth as quickly as possible. He thought if he ignored the younger girls it would be acceptable, seeing as he was their elder. He did his best to ignore the high-pitched giggling but couldn't when they addressed him.

            "You're the new guy, right?" one of the girls said. The group dissolved into laughter after the statement that wasn't a question.

            Draco turned his head sharply to convey his annoyance, and expected for the second time that day for the laughter to stop, but it only increased. In between gasps one of them pointed to his mouth and said, "You've got some" – giggle – "chicken on your lip!"

            Draco's hand flew to his mouth and he felt the offending piece of poultry on the corner of his mouth. He was acutely embarrassed, but he covered it up by immediately acting defensive.

            "Stop laughing! It's nothing funny! I don't make jokes at your expense. Hell, if you had food on your face it would be an improvement, as it would hide your repulsive looks!" he exclaimed.

            The girl looked at him in horror, too shocked and hurt to say anything.

            _Damn! I forgot Gryffindors_ never_ insult one another. If I could have _only_ been a snotty Ravenclaw…_

He attempted to put an apologetic look on his face. "Uh… I-I'm sorry. I had a rough day. I didn't mean it." He finished what he hoped sounded like a Gryffindor apology with a meek smile. 

            _Geez, Gryffindors apologize _a lot_…If I have to apologize one more time to _anyone _today, I'll scream…_

She returned his weak smile with one of her own. "It's okay."

            _Huh, but they sure do forgive easily. How strange…_

"I know exactly what you mean, I have days like that; and whenever someone talks to me, I bite their heads off." She and her friends chuckled. Draco managed another thoroughly unconvincing smile. Luckily they didn't notice.

            "It's true," her red-haired friend said, still smiling broadly. "So… you're the new guy, right? _Austin Malloy?_" The girls giggled again and, like Hermione had, blushed fiercely.

            _What is it about my bloody name???_

"I'm Ginny Weasley, and this is Liza Timmons," the scarlet haired girl said.

            Another Weasley. Draco was beginning to believe the cloak was nothing but bad luck.

            "Nice to meet you," he said in a somewhat strained voice. The girls didn't seem to catch the tension in his voice. The one named Liza had turned to Ginny.

            "Did you hear about Terry Boot and Mandy Brocklehurst from Ravenclaw?" she asked with her eyes sparkling.

            "No! What?" Ginny asked eagerly.

            "Why do girls like gossip so much? You only use the information against each other! Even _Slytherins_—" He stopped himself. The girls were looking at him strangely.

            _I've really got to work on my self-control…_

"Right…" Liza said and then addressed Ginny once more. "Anyway, Anita Hirst from Ravenclaw told me they're _together_. Like, as in, a couple."

            "So?!?!" Draco exclaimed. The girls collectively gave him a look of inferiority that clearly said he didn't understand because he was a boy, before turning back to their conversation.

            "Oooh, for how long?" Ginny squealed excitedly.

            "Since summer. They were owling each other all during the holiday."

            "How romantic!" Ginny declared dreamily, leaning back with a silly look on her face and her hand fluttering at her heart in a ridiculous swoon. Draco _could_ roll his eyes freely for the first time at the Gryffindors. It came as a great relief, because he'd wanted to do so numerous times that day.

            _It's a rough life, really, being a Gryffindor. I would feel sorry for them, but I don't have to deal with them, as they weren't sorted into _my _house_, Draco thought to himself. He didn't take into account that _he_ was a Gryffindor now, and that it was unlikely he would ever be a Slytherin again.

            When Draco finally got to bed that night, he heaved a great sigh of relief. He had had to complete a lengthy essay about Mind-Numbing potions, and then he'd been held up by the other Gryffindor boys, Harry Potter and his Merry Men, who had wanted him to play Exploding Snap with them. As far as Draco knew, Gryffindors never refused each other, and so he had joined them and immensely enjoyed beating them multiple times, as he excelled at the game. 

            Draco laid his head back against the pillow and smiled his first _real_ smile of the day. Even though his classes had been draining, the Gryffindors had been annoying, and Dumbledore had been suspicious and amused at his suffering, he still felt satisfied with himself. He had survived the first day without anyone finding out who he was, or even a clue to it. He hadn't even gotten into any skirmishes with anyone.

            _After today, it can only get easier…_


	7. Assimilating into Gryffindor

DISCLAIMER: Nothing is mine. I know, I was surprised, too!

A/N: It's been way too long. I promise to never do this again. In fact, I'm going to try extra-hard to get out the next chapter in less than a week, to make up for the abysmally long wait. Sorry to anyone who was mad at me; I wanted to throw a chair at myself for not updating in a timely fashion.

Heh, my beta wanted me to re-write some of this, but I didn't. Just as a warning, my writing style slightly changed (which is probably why I should have revised it before posting), and so it may seem different (and strange) from the rest of the story. It's also quite short. Apologies to anyone who doesn't like it. I may re-write the chapter in the future.

There's only one person to thank for me updating finally, and that's Winddance. She booted me off AIM, so I'd fix this and post it. You should all go read her story, "Undead," and review it with a thank you. (She's trying to hit the 100-review mark, and I can't review chapters more than once!) ;-)

One last, quick note: I'm starting a mailing list for anyone who wants to know when this is updated (since my updates are so sporadic). Just let me know in your review, and remember to leave your email address. Also, I've "re-discovered" AIM, so if anyone wants to chat, leave your screen name in the review as well, and I'll talk with you (about whatever) whenever we're both online.

That was a long A/N. There's more at the bottom. ;-) And now, onto the chapter!

Chapter Seven

**Assimilating into Gryffindor**

            At the end of Draco's first week of his fifth year, he had to admit it wasn't that bad.

            Sure, there was the whole cloak and "different identity" thing, but all in all, it could have been worse. Even dealing with the Gryffindors wasn't that bad, because Draco knew eventually they would trust him (as he was one of their own) and leak secrets to the disguised Slytherin in their midst. Hell, Gryffindor house itself was enough of an incentive to play nice with his enemies when all he wanted to do was hex them all the way to next Thursday. Slytherins had suitable shelter, but the Gryffindors had _luxury_. 

Draco was sure it had something to do with a biased Headmaster who was formerly a Gryffindor.

The schoolwork itself wasn't as bad as the first day and Draco found himself falling into a natural rhythm, as he always had, with his class work and assignments. He'd always been a smart student – able to grasp concepts quickly – and his teachers' only complaint was of his lax attitude toward work in general. Draco now found himself working harder than ever before. It had to be something in the food at the Gryffindor table. He wouldn't be surprised if the Gryffindors were being slipped supplements – how else could Hermione Granger be so damn smart?

As the Slytherin prince, he had had to maintain the image that he was, in a phrase, a "bad boy." Just having the surname "Malfoy" screamed cruelty and indifference. Draco was good at being a Malfoy, and he knew it.

When forced to live as something other than his family name, he found himself acting differently. Oh, he knew he had to put on a façade to fool everyone into believing he was a transfer student and not someone who'd been attending Hogwarts for the past four years; but he was finding it easier than he had originally thought. 

Of course, now, it was impossible for him to become a prefect. He'd been sure he would become the prefect of Slytherin house, Snape had certainly dropped enough hints to guarantee his promotion from treacherous student to treacherous student with authority. And he couldn't become prefect of Gryffindor because he was a "transfer student"; not that it mattered. Had he been sorted into Gryffindor when he was eleven (much as he shuddered to think about it), he still wouldn't have been able to become a prefect, with Granger, everyone's favorite Mudblood, in Gryffindor.

His animosity toward the Gryffindors hadn't been mollified since he joined them – it had increased. Despite the comfy Common Room and his improved attention to work, he still couldn't get through the day without wanting to roll his eyes three dozen times or willing bad things to happen when they were around. He satisfied himself by setting traps for them – such as setting a trip wire in front of the boys dormitory and reveling in Weasley's cries of anger and hurt when his abnormally large feet predictably didn't avoid the thin, taut wire. What was even more gratifying was that Ron had immediately blamed his brothers, who in turn had denied having anything to do with it; thus causing a small rift in the Weasley clan. Draco was as giddy as a schoolgirl at this unexpected result.

In a very masculine way, of course. It just wouldn't _do _for a Malfoy to prance around effeminately.

Draco had been semi-interested when his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class rolled around. He wondered who the new teacher was and if they would last longer than a year in the cursed position. Upon meeting Professor Breanna Wallace, Draco admitted to himself that she might be able to.

Professor Wallace was a very practical person in a no-nonsense way, like McGonagall, but she also had a sarcastic wit that made Draco admire her. 

It probably also helped that she could have stepped off the cover of _Witch Weekly. _She was very tall, with dark hair and eyes, and delicate features on her olive-skinned face. Such attributes had not gone unnoticed by the Gryffindor males.

Draco, of course, being the cool and calm person he was, wasn't affected. Or, if he was, he didn't show it. Others not gifted with a collected nature had a lot more trouble with hiding their feelings.

One such case, Draco was delighted to note, was Ron Weasley. While lecturing about counter-curses of spells that affected one's physical appearance, Professor Wallace had suddenly exclaimed, "Weasley!"

Ron, for his part, had been staring dreamily at the pragmatic professor, with his head propped up in his hand, and jerked when he heard his name.

"Yes, Professor?" he asked in a sickly-sweet voice, grinning like an idiot. Draco felt like gagging.

"What, pray tell, did I just say now?" she asked, staring shrewdly at the fiery-haired boy. Draco started to grin like an idiot as well, although he would have clamed it was a sadistic, and not idiotic, smirk, had he seen it. Yes, it looked like the professor was going to chew the Weasel out for not paying attention.

Ron's eyes widened, and he glanced nervously at the board, where there was a diagram of various magical weapons, aside from wands depicted. 

"Magical staffs," Ron said confidently, smiling winningly as he did so.

"Incorrect, Weasley. I would have thought you'd want to pay attention to this lesson, as you never know when someone may disfigure one of your limbs. Or staff," she added as an afterthought, and the entire class goggled at her. She hadn't really just said what Draco thought she did, had she?

Ron Weasley reddened visibly. Defense would be fun this year…

***

The mysterious new class that Dumbledore had alluded to for fifth and seventh years had turned out to be nothing more than an extra study period in preparation for the OWLs and NEWTs. Draco, or anyone else in Gryffindor tower, hadn't a clue as to why such a class had been started, and why it had been instigated this year, and not for years prior. It had always been assumed that students studied on their own time, and their classes would normally start giving review work at the end of the year to help them prepare.

Nevertheless, the study period generally received a positive response. Hermione was, suffice it to say, tickled pink over more class time. Ron was understandably smitten with it, as the professor who oversaw the class was Professor Wallace. Harry thought both his friends' reactions were amusing, and, like most students, appreciated the mandatory hour for doing homework, as it increased better study habits of all students attending the new class. Draco liked it because it was easier to spend time with the Gryffindors while doing work, rather than socializing; because it gave him something to focus on that wasn't his constant train of thought on why Gryffindors were monumentally stupid and wondering why they were rewarded for acting in that way.

Well into the second week of the term, Draco was the last one leaving the Defense classroom after the study period, because he'd been finishing up a transfiguration essay, when he heard strange noises coming from a small alcove near the entrance of the classroom. Draco stepped closer to investigate and immediately stepped back and turned away when he discovered the source of the noise.

Terry Boot and Mandy Brocklehurst, the talk of the Ravenclaw house, were making out furiously and didn't notice Draco approach. Draco heard Terry murmur, "It'll be tonight, love…" between passionate kisses as Draco strode away towards the entrance hall, planning on heading back to Gryffindor tower.

_Well,_ Draco thought wryly to himself, _Ravenclaws certainly waste no time…_ Draco resolved to look into Ravenclaws when he got back to his old self. If they'd been together for such a short time and already were planning to, it seemed, consummate their relationship, there might be something about Ravenclaw house he hadn't noticed before.

Wicked thoughts were running through Draco's head as he left the corridor and entered the Entrance Hall. He walked over to the great marble staircase and was about to ascend it when the doors on Hogwarts threshold burst open. 

Draco was extremely curious as to who would be visiting at such a late hour, and nearly cried out in shock as he watched Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy enter with grim, and in the case of Lucius, determined expressions on their faces.

***

A/N: The name Breanna Wallace isn't mine, I think I read it in a book somewhere. So disclaimer to that author, whoever it is. But the characterization is certainly all mine. 

As a special treat, I decided to respond to every review I got for the last chapter (and for some people who reviewed my author's note!). I stole the idea and format from Winddance. :-)

Enialedam: *blush* Thanks for adding me to your faves.

Darcel: Glad you think it's funny! Honestly, I didn't think it really was a humorous story. Nice to know someone thinks so. ;-)

Elfmoon87: Thanks! And you should feel sorry for Draco, having to suffer living with those "noble" Gryffindors! :-P

Dilly: Thanks! Winddance actually gave me the idea for the cloak, I just ran away with it and here we are now! I'll definitely try to keep up with posts in the future. I'm dead set on finishing this story!

Veritas4Eternity: All will be revealed in due time as to why Austin Malloy is so amusing… My beta, Winddance, doesn't even know!  :-D

Kalorna Enera: Ahh! Don't set Snape on me! I promise to be better in the future with updates… *Special Thanks* to you for reviewing three times and sympathizing with my writer's block.

Caroline Hal: Hmm… I don't know about that. I had originally planned it to only be from Draco's perspective, but then Harry's short PoV came in. Maybe there will be more, maybe not.

EuGIeBeAr: It takes Draco a while to warm up to people. Just give him some time. :-)

Vesha: I'm really glad you think it's getting "better and better." It makes an author's day hearing words like that.

Make sure to review! I swear, every review makes me infinitely happy!

~Bessorla


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